


Trust

by BD99



Series: Love & Legends Helena Klein [10]
Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Scars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trust, Useless Lesbians, Useless bisexual, mature relationship, positive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26105557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: Trust. This is what trust truly was. A back exposed freely, a sleepy body offered, laid prone, without any trace of tension despite a tapestry of reasons to be fearful. Here, with a Siren lounging so comfortably in her bed, a vision of realistic perfection and dreamlike seduction, Kya was elevated to the clouds by the simplest of truths. Helena trusted her completely.
Relationships: Helena Klein/Main Character
Series: Love & Legends Helena Klein [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1074312
Kudos: 9





	Trust

Her lips trembled as they framed the scar, tip of her tongue tracing the line of a shooting star across infinity. Smooth. Warm. Alive beneath her touch. Tamed only by the desire to be seen, for a goddess to gift herself to her directionless devotee. Kya’s lips lifted, leaving the damp imprint of her kiss to echo across Helena’s senses. Gods, it hurt. To part even that little bit pierced Kya’s heart so suddenly she whimpered. Only Helena’s calm breath guided her pace, allowing Kya to remain gentle as she dipped down to the Mage’s shoulder blade. A slice, the line stars had travelled, a new mark across the constellation, one which birthed a love story to echo for the ages. A story that bypassed the borders of reality, which overcame the challenges of the Universe and defied the very concepts of reality. Their story.

Kya’s lips lingered, drawn by Helena’s very soul to pay homage. The concept of a kiss or the flick of a tongue faded. Kya’s lips framed the old wound, caressing it between focused pecks. She knew there were so many scars to tend to, old wounds to soothe, yet that required her to break contact. The thought had her fists clenching, gathering the white sheets between snowy knuckles. Never had she felt so torn, even during the war. She craved the feeling of Helena’s muscles twitching beneath her touch, the sounds of contentment she could draw from her Mage... yet to do so meant she had to stop touching momentarily.

Her lip curled upwards, leaving her teeth grazing across Helena’s flesh. Her lip left a trail of delightful warmth, dragging down to the next scar before Kya’s bottom lip joined to deliver the next kiss. No longer could she let her mouth break away, not even to move to the next scar. With her eyes peacefully closed, she drifted on the tides of her memory, dragging her lips and tongue across the space between until she was positive Helena’s back would have been turned into a pool of residual saliva, if not for how swiftly each kiss dried.

“Mhhhmm...” Helena practically purred, the sound of her contented moan rumbling in her chest. A shiver worked its way down her limber body like wave, causing her to arch up into Kya’s loving attentions. The Sorceress felt her lover’s smile against the small of her back, just as she felt the heat of Kya’s breath turn her last kiss chilly for just a moment. Temperature. It was so... Helena was quite aware of it, even when she had no need to be. For so long, the feeling of a subtle chill on the air was enough to warn her to silence herself. To shrink from the Queen’s abuse, or beg for her attentions to avoid something less predictable. Now, Kya used that knowledge in such small ways. Ways most wouldn’t think about. Like how a kiss could become cold, then warm, then cold again within a single tick of the clock. How Helena could feel the patterns of scattered kisses or licks to paint a tapestry. Sometimes, it was the beauty of the scars across her back, the unique constellation Kya had begged to lay claim to like a deity of legend. Other nights it was messages, words of encouragement driven into her flesh in ways that would never mark. Never hurt. A quick peck could dot an i, whilst a slow, sensual curl of the tongue might carve hearts over the wounds of old.

“Enjoying yourself?” Kya questioned; tone laced with a smugness that Helena couldn’t help smile at. It was THEIR smugness. Kya’s inability to hide her own pride in what she could do to the tortured soul beneath her. And why should it be hidden? None had ever given Helena a reason to feel valued as even a human being, yet Kya made her feel all powerful. Helena knew her magic could destroy worlds, yet that was so insufficient when held to Kya’s love. Kya’s giving was more power than Helena knew how to handle. It burned and consumed her, until she had to touch lest the fire destroy her mind.

“As always, my Gentle Heart, you touch my soul.” Helena’s gentle, earnest praise drew heat to the tips of Kya’s ears, flooding from the deepest regions of her racing heart. Lord, Helena wasn’t even trying, and she took the wind from Kya’s sails. She locked the poor American in a place between fantasy and reality, where a blink could be a thousand years of the most romantic of memories, or the most heated of encounters. Where possibilities and everything Kya wanted to do were laid out, paved roads for her to speed down if only she dared pick her route. Instead, she froze, gaping, jaw flapping like a fish at the view before her.

Helena’s bare back almost glowed in the moonlight filtering through the window. Pale skin, scarred beyond reason, held such unspeakable vulnerability. Her body swelled with each deep breath she claimed, each a defiance against a lifetime of abuse. Her muscles shivered and twitched, reminding Kya of the waves of the ocean at night, crested by the gleam of lingering kisses and smoothed scars. Hair of winter gold was gathered to the side, spilling across the pillow in a glimmering pearlescent stream. The darkness of shadows embraced every curve of Helena’s body, delicately shading the swell of her partially obscured breast, the dips of definition in impossibly powerful arms, the exposed line of a once ravaged throat.

Kya felt hers constrict.

Trust. This is what trust truly was. A back exposed freely, a sleepy body offered, laid prone, without any trace of tension despite a tapestry of reasons to be fearful. Here, with a Siren lounging so comfortably in her bed, a vision of realistic perfection and dreamlike seduction, Kya was elevated to the clouds by the simplest of truths. Helena trusted her completely. Every image of lust Kya could summon to her mind felt pale in comparison, like the ghosts of true and lingering emotions. Here, she had every chance to take, to sate whatever desire could come to mind. Helena’s silent offering was not merely a chance to indulge, it was an offering of her entire self. She did not shy from Kya’s gaze, did not conceal a single weakness. To hide had been beaten into Helena, yet she so boldly defied every harsh lesson when it came to Kya. The realisation made Kya cling even tighter to the sheets bunched around Helena’s plentiful hips. Her fingers itched to reach out, to trace the lines she had just soothed and once more learn the constellations of her galaxy. From the dotting stabs and grazes, down to the savagely delivered whip lashes, and lower. The wounds she knew existed only because Helena had given her those stories, had let Kya see beyond the walls of General Klein. A gash down the inside of her thigh, delivered twice. Once with a knife, once with a curse. The thousands upon thousands of burns down Helena’s ankles from where she had fought, or where the Queen had bound her too harshly. Alchemy and magic had preserved the image of flawless skin, yet Kya could not help but question the purity of such things. The scars no longer existed, yet all that did was erase the crime from the world. The deed only existed in murky depths. Tangles of traumatic flashes across Helena’s memory. Had they ever happened at all? Were they just a night terror? Their only acknowledgement was the words Helena gave when her shoulders caved beneath the pressure of horrific memory. Worlds might forget, yet for Helena the deed still stood so stark, still drove her mind to the depths of conceivable hell. To places where communication was screams and pleading for mercy, and mercy was merely a more violating touch.

Never. Again. Kya’s body thrummed with the silent declaration, as it did a hundred times a day. Never again would Helena’s trust, body and soul be violated. God, she had somehow earned this beautiful woman’s trust, and she vowed to protect it until her dying breath. Never would she stop striving to earn the blessings Helena gave, or stop appreciating everything that Helena was. How two worlds could miss it, she had no clue. Helena was a goddess, and Kya was all too happy to offer her soul in devotion.

“You’re... I don’t have the words, Helena.”

That was true. What words could ever sum up everything Kya could see painted across a single body? Ten thousand words may compose the weight of Helena’s crimes, yet a million could not begin to grace the essence of her. What words could explain a young girl growing from an abused daughter to an abused possession? What words could bare the weight of how Helena had been tortured, twisted into an image so terrifying that nations whispered in fear? Could anything explain the gravity of Helena’s fight? Of every defiance torn from her humanity? Of how she had continued, spent over thirty years fighting just to be seen as a human? What words could sum up her gentleness? How tenderly she touched despite the power of pure destruction running through her veins? Kya knew no way to express the simplest of things any more than a traumatic story. The mischief twinkling in sapphire blue eyes. How she possessed both the grace of a dancer and the power of a stallion whilst also withholding the gentleness of flower petals. How, even holding Kya’s hands down, Helena’s grip never became too tight. How her thumb would always seek out Kya’s pulse, as if reminding herself that the war was over. That Kya was alive in her grasp. The relief Kya often saw flood Helena’s eyes when their gazes met. Admiration for Helena’s struggles continued to claim Kya’s breath, even as she watched the Sorceress lift her head.

“You’re crying. Hav-“

“No!” Kya interfered, refusing to let the words of self-blame escape Helena’s lips.

“Helena, Christ, no. It’s just, sometimes everything you’ve been through just hits me. Its... I am so fucking furious for you, like I could go and bomb the Queen’s castle. But I’m also so insanely proud of you! How you fought, how you managed to face everything you’d endured.” Kya confessed, letting her forehead fall back to the small of Helena’s back for a moment. She couldn’t resist leaving another loving kiss to the bump of Helena’s spine, followed by another, and another, all as her tears fell.

“You are so beautiful, Helena. I love you so much my body can’t always contain it.”

“To think,” Helena began, pushing up onto one of her hands so she could turn enough to gaze down at Kya. All at once, the Sorceress’ breath caught in her throat, stolen by the sincerity in Kya’s otherworldly eyes. Grey, but not the type of grey that mimicked storm tainted clouds, nor the type of greys reminiscent of steel. No, Kya’s eyes were the grey of of stone, flecked with little slithers of blue which reminded Helena of diamonds before they were cleaned. Always, the images were of Earth. Grounding. Afterall, Kya was the grounding force in her life, the bedrock she had rebuilt herself upon. Kya had moved her to defy the Witch Queen, to embrace her own fears and rediscover who she was as an individual. Kya had moved an entire world, shown them one of the most horrific figures in their history, the fearsome General Klein, then made them see a hero. The Curse breaker. The slayer of the Witch Queen. Made them see Helena Klein in lights none dared dream.

“there was a time I had been convinced you could never truly want me. That it was my obedience you truly craved.” Helena’s confession earned a quiet yet sharp hiss from Kya, along with a literal flinch. Kya understood, boy did she ever, yet her body rebelled against the notion. She attempted to press closer, scattering more patient kisses up Helena’s back. How? How could any power that be, any god which may exist allow such a beautiful soul to be tormented to the point of worthlessness? The injustice of it all was a fire in her heart, causing her to tremble with the effort of keeping those flames contained.

“I hate that you ever felt I did not want you. I never wanted to force my wants onto you, but, Helena... have you seen yourself? Before I even knew your name, I was imagining things.”

“Things?” Helena enquired; brow arched playfully.

“You. Me. A bed. Alone and safe. How your arms around me would feel on cold nights, holding me close. How comfortable your chest was to lay my head on when you first hugged me. How that would feel to sleep on every night.” Kya’s response drew a rare flush to Helena’s cheeks.

“Then, I got to know you. The more I got to see, the more I wanted. I got to see a woman who is the best artist I have ever met. A woman built for peace, not war. A woman who has the element of destruction in her veins, but the power of endless growth and love in her heart. Not to mention the things just looking at you does to me. I could watch you draw for decades and never get tired of it. You make me appreciate the little things in life, even when I miss them because I am too busy watching you enjoy them. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you, I doubt I even could.” Kya spoke clearly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. God, she already knew she would never stop wanting Helena. It was carved into her soul by carpenters of universal renown. Yet, it was only a shallow mind who would associate Kya’s desires to something carinal. Lust was simple, easy. What Kya wanted was so much more; a mountain compared to a pebble made from the droppings of a rabbit. After all, lust could be so fleeting, an experience of touch and taste to drive someone to the brink, then watch them drown and plummet beneath waves of momentary bliss. Sensations which would fade before a turn of the sun. Kya’s desires were so much more than that. Already, she welcomed the pain of overworked hands, even as she moulded each brick from the clay of understanding and sincerity. Her own blood played the mortar she offered as she tried to help Helena piece herself back together. The tower of Babylon, possibly, yet Kya was committed to continuing to build. To rebuild and repair, each time sturdier and aiming higher. Did Helena even have limits? If so, Kya wanted to help her find them, to reach the stars she’d always looked towards. Then, to shatter the ceilings of what ancient civilisations considered Heaven. The moon. The sun. Blackholes galaxies away. All challenges Kya believed Helena could conquer.

“Kya...” Helena couldn’t force more than the most reverent whisper past the lump in her throat. She felt the truth of Kya’s words, just as she felt everything Kya never voiced. Sheets tickled the swell of her hip, prickling along erased wounds and violations. Helena couldn’t help but feel how Kya trembled, only allowing her dark hair to brush Helena’s skin. A dry brush whispering across a plain canvas, held by an artist who was pleading to birth delights for the world. Even driven by such powerful emotions, Kya held herself back, silently waiting for invitation. Such power brought a smile to Helena’s lips. If she were water, she knew Kya would die of thirst before claiming a single droplet... And oh, she felt Kya’s thirst. It shouldn’t amuse her as it did, to feel how desperate Kya was to touch. To love. Even now, it was mystifying how Kya could love her. She was a murderer, a general of a genocide, something more dangerous than any creature within any world of fantasy or reality. No dragon could destroy the world on a whim, not as Helena could, yet Kya approached her as if she were a lost kitten. Where the Queen’s hands had tortured Helena into a weapon, had tried to erase her imperfections, Kya longed only to feel them. To understand.

“I would not mind... more...” The Sorceress finally admitted, her mind clawing for the words she so desperately wished to say. A small smile dawned at the small whimper which escaped Kya. It was a sound Helena now understood meant Kya was holding back her tears, drowning in emotions too pure for Helena to touch. Yet, touch she would. Again, and again, until the concept of individuals faded. If magic could not combine them, then Helena was greedy enough to claim every other closeness... and Kya was too.

“Helena... please. Can I touch your back?” The level of desire in such an innocent request punched the breath from Helena’s lungs, tore the concept from her body, just as it would tear her heart to refuse.

“Touch as you desire, Gentle Heart. I surrender myself to you, for tonight.” She granted her permission with a soft sigh. Her head sunk to the pillow once more, eyes closed. She waited, searching for the feeling of dread that often swelled beneath her breast when she invited such things, gave such power to another, yet it did not come. Worlds did not collide within her head, nor did her heartbeat begin to wage war against her veins. Instead, there was unity. The way her breath picked up fell in gentle pace with her heart, with Kya’s heart. She felt Kya’s body trembling above hers, skin whispering across her own as Kya audibly swallowed. Then, fingers, the lightest touch against her shoulders. A soft sigh of wind over fields of peaceful wheat. Loving rains over meadows green. Kya’s fingers were so careful, so gentle, so... reverent.

“I’m just going to touch your shoulders, maybe lay over you, ok? You have complete control, even with my weight on you, I promise, if you don’t like this, I’ll stop.” Kya whispered; voice thicker than molasses. Helena only hummed in response. Kya’s promises were branded into her soul, then upon the world as Kya birthed them to reality. The Sorceress trembled, allowing herself to feel every touch. Lips had branded every scar, time and time again. Every disgusting moment she could recall, and many she could not, had thrown themselves against Kya’s reassurances; foot soldiers laying siege to a temple. If pain acted the aggressors, then Kya’s words played the role of Goddess.

“I want you to enjoy how I love you.” Kya’s words were the fires she cast upon shame. Helena sighed softly, feeling that unique, unspeakable fire beginning at her core. It was an ember, a brief spark, nothing as shocking or frightening as the Queen made it. This was so very different. Kya was different. With the Queen, if Helena did not offer flame, she was punished. She was trapped, burning too brightly, too painfully for her soul to endure unscathed. She was made to destroy in order to survive. The Queen had tried to take that ember and destroy the world with unholy fire. Kya held that ember within her cupped hands. She spoke gently, sacrificing her body to shield that little ember from a world of storms and rain. Kya fed that flame with gentle words, coaxing and praising with nothing but the purest of intentions and utter patience. The Queen had set that flame across the world, only to punish it for burning. Kya sought only to see that flame grow as it would, to revel in it’s beauty without turning it to her own whims.

Above the Sorceress, Kya flushed brilliantly, the goofiest of grins forming across her lips as she slowly moved to lay herself across Helena. The way her hand touched Helena was nothing short of worship, tracing the lines of her muscles with delicate fingertips and gentle palms. The weight of Kya’s body over hers did not intimidate, even when Helena felt Kya’s hand push that little bit harder. Instead of fear, she was flooded with a sense of contentment. This was warm. Safe even, despite being so unknown. Her brows furrowed in curiosity for what Kya had planned. She had been taken like this before, punished by strap and spell, or a third party to entertain. She had accepted this position in exchange for food when she had been weak and starving. But this wasn’t them, this wasn’t a violation from her hideous past nor torture for her crimes. This was Kya. Gentle, caring Kya who had nothing but smooth skin pressed to Helena; hips rocking slightly against Helena’s rump. No, not rocking. Fidgeting. Wiggling. Trembling.

Kya was trying not to apply pressure, even at the sacrifice of her own comfort. That made the warmth in Helena’s heart intensify. It radiated through her muscles, soothing her until she allowed herself to give in. On a soft breath, the Sorceress released the tension in her body and finally allowed herself to melt into the mattress.

Kya waited, watching the pinch in Helena’s brows, searching for anything beyond curiosity. Helena remained calm, her cheek pressed into the pillow, lips parted to take small gulps of air. Beautiful blue eyes were closed, relaxed, save the occasional flutter of eyelids. Unable to resist, Kya allowed herself to fall forwards, only to catch herself on an outstretched hand lingering beside Helena’s. Kya’s free hand came to Helena’s brow, light fingers tracing each delicate line of Helena’s expression. Her curiosity. Her contentment. Her smile. Oh, how that gentle curve of lips could undo Kya a thousand times over. It was strange, feeling such pillowy softness beneath her thumb when she knew lips had a thousand grooves, each leaving a unique print behind to mark a kiss. It was a gentle kiss to the pad of her thumb which drew a soft gasp from Kya, even as the Sorceress beneath her let out a soft yet playful hum.

“You seem relaxed. Is this ok?” Kya questioned; her tone filled with tender concern as she let a little more of her weight rest across Helena’s scarred back. She watched, trying to decipher the slow blinks and twitch of Helena’s brow.

“I am completely at ease, Kya.” The realisation that her words were entirely true was enough to make Helena’s heart swell. She reached into herself, scouring the further most regions of her conscious in search of her fear, only to find nothing save contentment and passive curiosity. Not only did she not fear Kya’s touch, she welcomed it. Helena longed for such gentle contact across her wounded body, across every foul memory. Kya could wash away the shame Helena had carried for her entire life. Kya could wash away the ugliness of abuse. Kya. Kya was everything Helena wanted, every salacious desire and tender comfort she could comprehend. Acts which she knew brought her shame and agony suddenly intrigued her when paired with Kya. Situations that had left her scarred were now potentially enjoyable and safe, if Kya was there. If Kya was the one leading. Surely, if it was Kya behind her, she was safe.

“I can feel that.” Kya breathed; voice strained. Thick, like molasses and honey dripping through a sieve.

“I can... gods, Helena.” Kya’s voice broke, hitching on an all-encompassing sob that rocked her entire being. It was true, she could feel the honesty in Helena’s words. Helena was just so soft. So warm, so close and so relaxed. The Sorceress was liquid muscle beneath her, as if lacking a skeletal structure. It was enough to have Kya’s eyes stinging, for tears of pride and joy to flow down her cheeks and onto Helena’s skin. The raven-haired woman rested her forehead between Helena’s shoulder blades, sobbing softly as she wrapped an arm underneath Helena’s torso. Kya squeezed gently, cuddling Helena as close as she could. She lost herself in Helena’s scent, earthy and magical. Parchment, herbs and a unique smell no human could categorise. Nobody was ever allowed close enough to Helena to notice that little underlying note.

“I’m so proud of you. I love you so, so much. I wish you could feel how full my heart is.”

“Show me.” Helena found herself whispering. Pleading, even. It shocked her. How her body reacted to Kya’s mere presence, the weight and warmth plastered across her back. Lust had always been stoked, something brewed with intention. It was Kya who’d shown her spontaneous, yet even those situations had a logical formula Helena could follow. This... this was something entirely different. It was not the roaring inferno, or even the trickle she was used to. It was a sudden yet gentle warmth. Something spilling from her overflowing heart that slowly warmed her veins. A radiant glow peaceful bliss.

“I surrender myself to your guidance, my love.”

“In that case...” Kya began, voice wavering beneath the weight of Helena’s words. Thunder echoed in her chest, rocking her overflowing heart to the very last molecule. Suddenly, there were immense possibilities, many of them mistakes. What if her touch inspired fear? What if she scared the Sorceress with her eagerness to please? Or worse, if she tempered her desire, would it seem as if she did not appreciate the gift so lovingly offered? A gentle kiss placed to the curve of Helena’s shoulder bought Kya a few moments to collect herself, to remind herself that this was her Helena. Helena was not her destination, not a goal to reach or an objective to meet. Helena was not a journey to take, nor was she an adventure to best. Helena was the path. Even when there was no clear trial to follow, Helena was the direction Kya took. She was the golden pavement and gravel both. She was oceans and forests, storms and sunshine. Helena was everything. The fact Helena trusted Kya with her physical self was just a sweetener to the fact Helena existed at all. Kya could do no wrong, not if she followed as she always had. If she was honest, if she loved as she wished to be loved in return. Whether the night unfolded into seduction or laughter, it was with Helena. That was all that truly mattered.

Reassured by her realisation, Kya leaned closer, allowing her lips to skim the shell of her Sorceress’ ear as she whispered the first of many less wholesome requests for the night.


End file.
